Happily Ever Afters
by AJ Manderz
Summary: Now a series of One Shots. Updated with "After Thoughts." Inspired by 7.15am. Okay, so maybe kissing him in the middle of the street hadn't been the best idea. But all she can think about now are his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair.
1. Good Enough

Author's Note:_ I thought the scenes we saw between Mary Margaret and David Nolan were much too short this episode, lol. Suffice to say, I cannot wait for the next, but anyway...this is more scribblings...an "expansion" of what happened between our two favorite people in tonight's episode. Enjoy. :)_

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><p><strong>Good Enough<strong>

Mary Margaret Blanchard was going to the hospital…again. Volunteering had started out as a way to make her feel fulfilled, to appease her loneliness. But it had never really done so. Until now.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" asks David as he hops his checker over her red one and then takes it off the board. He smiles that dimpled smile. "King me."

She laughs. "You know that's the third time you've beaten me today."

His smile is tender, less grin this time. "I don't mind so much."

She finds herself trying to breathe as her heart pounds…

"It's so good to see you smiling," says a voice behind her shoulder. Katherine. The blond woman wears a smile as she comes into the hospital room. She looks clean and confident in her dark jacket and navy blue skirt, her nude-colored pantyhose. Mary Margaret Blanchard never asked what she did for a living. A business woman probably.

"Hey," says David slowly and Mary sees his confusion as his wife swoops in for a kiss.

She doesn't like the lost look she sees in his eyes when his wife is in the room. It's like something has been taken from him. She wants to ease his discomfort, to—but no, that can never happen. So she smiles and tells them that she must be going. And she leaves the room before she can promise David anything.

Will he see her tomorrow? No. That's probably not a good idea.

* * *

><p>"And you just <em>left<em>?" says Emma later that night. She blows on her hot chocolate and then smiles as the whip cream and cinnamon tickle her nose as she takes a sip. Mary Margaret Blanchard doesn't understand why this little gesture of her new friend makes her so warm inside. So innocent, so child-like as it were. Ah, it must be nothing.

"Yeah," she says as she grimaces. Her hands are clutched around her own mug of hot cocoa. "I'm such a coward. But he gets that look in his eyes and it's like—I don't know, I'd promise him anything."

"Like what exactly?"

Mary's cheeks warm slightly. "I don't know. But I can't lie to him either. I've never been able to lie to anyone. I _want _to see him again…am I a bad person? He's married and he doesn't even remember her…it's like, he doesn't want to either."

Emma thinks about this and then shrugs. "They say that some coma patients develop different personalities as they heal. Like, the brain re-programs itself or something."

"Is that true?"

"It could be. I don't know. You could never be a bad person. But getting involved with a married man though…" She makes a face. "It's not good. I know."

"Yeah, it's just…" But she can't help her curiosity. So she says as gently as possible: "Henry's father you mean? He was married?"

But before she can answer there is a knock on the door. As Emma escorts a crying Henry into the room, her heart goes out to him. When they leave, she feels like a part of herself goes with them. Then all she can think about is David, their recovering coma patient. And she feels so alone.

* * *

><p>"I shouldn't have come," is the first thing she says when she sees his eyes light up at her presence. She shouldn't have come to visit him.<p>

He looks confused, lost again. "Did you have other plans?"

She sits down in the chair next to his bed. "No, it's not that—it's just—I'm not sure your wife would want me here."

"Why? Katherine appreciates your help around the hospital just as much as everyone. Just as much as me. She knows it was you who saved me."

"She has been very kind. But, no, it's not that."

"You think she's jealous?" He says incredulously and he gets this smile that creeps up one side of his face, so cocky that for once she feels like she wants to slap him.

But she won't let him get the better of her. She goes for reasonable instead. "Well, we have been spending a lot of time together…"

"It's your job. You help all the patients."

"I volunteer."

"Well, if you volunteer _your _time, what does my wife have to do with it?"

She sighs and she knows then that he's not going to be reasonable. That he's not going to understand. That he can never understand. That she's falling in love with him and it breaks her heart.

"I…I should go," she says instead and stands. She smiles weakly. "The doctor said I shouldn't tire you out too much, so, yeah…" She can hardly look at him.

"Goodbye, David." Then she does look at him and his eyes, they entrap her.

She was leaving. She was.

"Take a walk with me," he says.

And she finds herself nodding. She takes a deep breath. "Okay."

* * *

><p>She holds his arm because she knows he's still weak and she doesn't want him to trip or fall. At least, that's what she tells herself because she wonders as her heart pounds, what could possibly be happening?<p>

"Mary Margaret," he says.

"Please, call me Mary."

"Mary." He smiles. "Thank you for walking with me."

"It's my pleasure," she says automatically.

His arm is so steady underneath her fingertips. "Mine too," he says.

She takes a deep breath as his blue eyes look down into hers. Ah, what was she going to say again? He's so _charming. _Charming? Where had that come from?

"She's nice," she says, to fill the silence. "Your wife. Katherine. What does she do?"

He pulls away from her slowly and he grimaces.

"You don't remember? Nothing?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"I'm sure it will come back with time."

"Nothing feels real enough," he says. "It's like I've woken up in a different time."

"You were in a coma for a long time. It's understandable. It's disorienting."

He puts his hand on her arm again and stops them walking. "Except you. You feel real to me."

She doesn't know what to say, but she doesn't think she has to say anything. He's leaning in to kiss her and then—another interruption.

Only it's the sound of an ambulance pulling into the parking lot, and the noise is quickly silenced. They watch as the workers unload the newest patient to Storybrooke's hospital. It's no one they recognize, which is odd because Storybrooke is a very small town.

She looks back at David again and then—he kisses her, right out there in front of the hospital on the sunny pavement.

There's nothing that can describe his lips on hers, as if the warmth from the blacktop might be seeping up through her toes, as if her heart clenches and she tries to take a breath—her head gets dizzy and the world spins…not here, but there and then everywhere too.

And then she finds her feet again.

"I…" he says, but then he shuts his mouth, like he doesn't know what to say.

"Yeah," she breathes. She feels suddenly embarrassed. It's been awhile since she's kissed anyone. Perhaps it wasn't all that great for him.

She feels one of his hands on her warm cheek. "I know you," he says and his eyes are so intense and frustrated. "As if I pulled you from a dream or the stars…"

She sighs a mental sigh.

But she has to bring him out of the clouds. She has to. Because she's afraid of getting lost up there with him. "I saved your life. Of course you'll know me."

"It's more than that. I think you know that too. I feel like I could always find you."

"Always?"

"Of course, always. What else?"

"If I was lost in a rain storm, or in…say, Cambodia?" she teases.

"Rain storms are easy," he says, playing along. "Volunteering in other countries now?"

"I do what I can."

He smiles and starts walking again. "It's enough for now," he says.

This time, though, he takes her hand in his. He interlaces his fingers with hers. She looks down and smiles and doesn't say anything. Warm and content with his skin against hers for the few minutes they have before his wife will come to see him, before they'll be back inside underneath the fluorescents.

_But it is not enough for now_, thinks Mary Margaret Blanchard as they walk back into the hospital, because she is startling to believe—when it comes to this man at least—that true love doesn't just belong in fairy tales.


	2. After Thoughts

Author's Note: _What did we all think of 7:15 am, yeah? I SQUEED and thought, okay, yes...I MUST write something, so yeah...here it is! _

_This is, (technically) not a continuation of the chapter before it. I think they could be considered individual one shots by themselves. But it does follow the order of the episodes that we will see. Ultimately we want Snow and Charming together forever and yes that's pretty much the story arc that stretches through both stories here. To me, it seemed like the best way to get the quality I'm looking for here. Especially if I were to continue in the same style that I started before. :) I hope y'all enjoy. _

~AJM

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><p><strong>After Thoughts<strong>

Okay, so maybe kissing him in the middle of the street hadn't been the greatest idea in the world. Someone could have seen, and someone _did_, ultimately, but Mary Margaret Blanchard can't bring herself to care. All she can think about is his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair and God—she must have stopped breathing. Images swarmed into her vision, warm and sun-filled and yeah…there were fireworks. Like, lots and lots of them.

But there were also things that she couldn't quite remember. That she felt like she shouldn't remember. Woods and castles and seven dwarves that all took care of her, that all cared for her. She saw their shiny, ruddy faces as if from a dream, all huddled around her, all crying and herself in a cold, icy coffin…

Mary Margaret Blanchard shudders.

Emma comes into the kitchen then and looks over at her roommate, where she's sitting at the table clutching her not-so-warm morning coffee.

"'Nother storm comin' up, I guess," says Emma.

Mary Margaret stares at her blond roommate for a second. She thinks suddenly: she has David's eyes. How odd. She blinks her own wide-staring ones.

"You alright?" says Emma.

"Yeah, I was just…thinking."

"About David."

"Yeah. I kissed him."

"You kissed him?" Emma's dirty cup falls into the sink, hard.

"Well, actually he kissed me—and I don't know. Have you ever felt like you were _meant _to be with someone?"

Emma tries not to think about Graham, but she can't help it. All at once she remembers his warm eyes…She shuts her brain off. Some things were just too painful.

"But he's married," says Emma. "You said she was pregnant."

"She's not pregnant, and David doesn't even want to have kids with her and…" She grins. "I just don't really know what to do with myself right now."

"Well, you're definitely not drinking your coffee. Lucky its Saturday."

"He said he would leave her this time, and…I can't help but _hope _you know?" she smiles again and Emma sees her eyes light up. There's something good about that smile on her face. Something genuine and it makes Emma feel a little bit warmer inside and less gray. Some people were just meant to make others feel better she guessed.

"That's something I haven't felt in a really long time," says Mary Margaret quietly.

Emma sits down across from her. "I'm happy for you…I guess."

Mary Margaret takes a sip of her coffee and then grimaces. When did it get cold? "_But_?" she says.

"_But_," says Emma. "I just don't want you to get hurt. You've been here before with him, you know? He's awful charming."

Mary Margaret laughs. "Can someone be _too_ perfect?"

"I'm just saying not everyone needs the strong heroic type," mutters Emma.

"Some do." Mary Margaret sighs and Emma doesn't know what to say.

But it almost feels like a cruelty to disagree with her anymore. The sun streams suddenly bright and yellow through their kitchen window. Maybe it wasn't going to storm after all.

So she asks instead, "What happened after you kissed him?"

* * *

><p><em>They separate in a tangle of arms and wide-eyed expressions, noses cold from the morning air, their lips parted in wonder.<em>

_Mary Margaret Blanchard giggles. David laughs as his fingers trail through her short hair at the base of her neck. Her skin tingles at the contact, feels the unexpressed shiver at the base of her spine._

_"What are you thinking?" he breathes._

_"I don't know what to think. Are we real? Is this real? I don't—I don't know what to say."_

_"Me either." His hand drops away from her neck, but instead of leaving her completely, he tangles her fingers with his own. "Even this…it feels…" he glances up at her. "What?"_

_"It feels like we've never been apart," she finishes for him. She leans in closer. He feels like she might kiss him again. "My heart is pounding," She breathes._

_A car door slams and Mary Margaret looks up. She sees the Mayor walk into a shop across the street. The jingle of a bell makes its way to her ear as the door closes hard behind the woman._

_"Oh, my," she breathes._

_David drops her hand and steps away. "I…forgot where we were for a moment. It's so… easy to forget with you."_

_"I know, it's like…sometimes I feel like we're in a different world."_

_"Yeah," he says. And he smiles that crooked smile, the one that she loves so much. That makes her stomach do flip-flops and everything in between._

_"So what now?" he asks her._

_"I don't know. You have your wife…and I have…my kids."_

_"Yes."_

_"Yes...oh my God David, my kids!" She glances at her watch and realizes that she has ten minutes to get to class and get her lesson ready. "I'm going to be late!"_

_"Let me drive you," he says._

_"It's only just down the block-"_

_"Please," he insists._

_And so she lets him._

* * *

><p>"So then what?" asks Emma. Mary Margaret looks up at her suddenly and then remembers where she is. She was caught up reliving the moment. She's still at her kitchen table, it's the next day, she's still at home but everything felt much warmer and inviting now.<p>

"He talked to Katherine," says Mary Margaret. "And he called me after school. They've separated…for the moment. We had dinner…I can't stop smiling about it."

"Yeah? Where'd you guys go?"

"Here. I made spaghetti, David brought some wine."

"How come you didn't tell me about this last night?"

"You got home so late, and David had just left, and I didn't want to bother you. I almost think it's still a dream."

"Is it?"

"Yes…and no. I didn't want to imagine myself being this happy, ever, because I was afraid that I would wake up and find it wasn't real. That true love, that happily ever afters...that maybe even the impossible can happen if you want it bad enough…"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know. Things are different now. Different than they were. I think Henry's right."

"About what?" says Emma.

"Things are changing. People are happier. Maybe you have made a difference here."

"I haven't really done that much," says Emma.

"What about those kids? Finding their Dad? That was special."

"Yeah, it was I guess."

Mary Margaret Blanchard suddenly takes her hand then. "Hope is a very, very powerful thing, Emma." And she smiles.

Emma stares at her and then squeezes her hand before standing up. Her chair scrapes across the floor and sounds loud in the small, sunlight apartment. She watches Mary Margaret Blanchard go back to her day-dreaming. Her put-together friend looks like a lost little child with her cold coffee, her un-brushed hair and her dreamy eyed expression that suddenly it reminds her of Henry. Emma smiles.

She thinks about a fierce kind of love then, the kind that shines so bright, it burns.


End file.
